


a picture is worth a thousand words

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Crows Zero (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, Multi, Photography, Polyamory, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: ryohei has been taking photos ever since he moved in with kazeo. now, he has a surprise for all of them. none of them have ever felt so loved.





	a picture is worth a thousand words

Domestic bliss with Ryohei is better than Kazeo ever expects it to be.

He expects a learning curve as they acclimate to living with one another and finds them slotting the pieces together quickly. When Kazeo wakes up first, he waits in bed, staying as still as he can, until Ryohei stirs and decides they can begin with their day. When Ryohei wakes up first, he nuzzles under Kazeo’s chin, stubbornly insisting he should hardly be the only one conscious. Most mornings, they still lie in bed an extra hour or so, just enjoying each other’s company.

Kazeo is not particularly skilled in the kitchen, all things considered, but he knows how to make enough food to survive mostly on his own. In contrast, Ryohei is perfectly self-sufficient, easily doubling more than a dozen recipes for the two of them; Kazeo only thinks a little bit about how sad it is that Ryohei could grow up in such a lavish and expensive household and probably still learned to cook for himself out of necessity rather than desire. Everything he makes tastes delicious, though, and he always looks so pleased when Kazeo heaps praise upon him.

Having someone else in the house means Kazeo has a reason to keep the place tidy all the time, and Ryohei does more than his fair share of keeping things clean, as well. They do the dishes together after breakfast because Kazeo refuses to let Ryohei cook and clean up after, and they usually share the shower after. It might be a tight fit but it’s preferable.

One of the boxes they brought along with them remains in the closet for a month or so, a box Kazeo has questions about but never asks. Poking and prodding is unnecessary. Ryohei tells him what he wants him to know when Ryohei is comfortable with expressing it. But another box gets quickly emptied out, a camera with several lenses and a case.  _ A Christmas present, _ Ryohei says when Kazeo asks him about it.  _ From an aunt a few years ago. _

He hardly strikes Kazeo as the type to take pictures and yet by the time snow is properly falling, an entire two rolls of film have passed. Ryohei pays to have them professionally developed though he insists he knows how to do it just as well, something Kazeo hardly doubts once he sees just how skilled Ryohei is with the camera in the first place. It functions as an extension of his body when he has it in hand, his focus razor-sharp.

Kazeo is out for the afternoon on a date with Shibata, having promised him the day all to himself when Shibata whines about wanting more time together. Having four boyfriends is difficult when it comes to managing time, group dates not always enough to make everyone feel properly appreciated, and the others hardly have the luxury of sharing the apartment, as well. So Kazeo gives Ryohei a kiss goodbye, eyeing the cardboard box sitting on the couch and wondering if it might be the one from the closet floor.

He receives his answer when he comes home, Shibata hanging off of his arm, insisting he has to see Ryohei before he heads home himself, almost demanding to see  _ our little prince. _

The walls have been bare for as long as Kazeo has lived here, having nothing really of note to hang up anywhere except for a single picture of his father in the living room. When he opens the door, though, a massive chunk of the wall has been taken over with picture frames.

“Holy shit,” Shibata breathes, dropping his arm and hurrying over to the wall. “What  _ are _ these?”

It takes Kazeo’s brain a moment to process the images in front of him. The box had been full of empty picture frames, Ryohei leaving the pictures behind with no desire to take them with him, picking them off of the walls. They had been amassed in his bedroom when they came to pack things up for him, a pile he insisted they had to be careful with. He would need them in the future even though he had nothing to put in them at the moment.

But now, none of the frames are empty. Harsh winter light streaming in through the windows makes the gold and silver frames gleam, the black and white ones that much more stark in comparison. All of the photographs are of the five of them in various states and locations, sometimes only a few of them at a time. Some of them are just of Kazeo and Ryohei, pictures taken by Yamashita when Ryohei had taken the time to carefully show him how to use the camera without damaging it in the process, the one possession that means so much to him.

There are other pictures of Goura, Yamashita, and Shibata together, the recognition that the three of them seem to function in their own little group when Kazeo and Ryohei are not around. And still there are single shots as well, the focus so careful. Kazeo is pleased to see shots of just Ryohei alone as well, wondering if Yamashita had taken them hoping Ryohei would keep them, happy that Ryohei deemed himself worthy enough to hang them beside the others.

Shibata presses the heel of his hand over his mouth and Kazeo looks at him, noting the moment when his dark brown eyes mist over, the tip of his nose turning pink. “He took all of these of us.”

“Gohei took some, too,” Kazeo reminds him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “He really does love all of us just as much as he says he does.”

“Some of these are so pretty. He could be a professional. He really… He went out of his way to do this, huh?” Shibata sniffles pitifully, gulping a bit of air as his hand strays to one framed shot, just him and Goura together, Goura’s arm wrapped so tight around him, holding him close.

Kazeo nods, his throat too tight, not sure what to say or even if he could express how this wall of photographs makes him feel right now. Ryohei had hung these himself, too, had gotten the photos developed and framed each one and found it a place on the wall. He can only imagine in his head how that must have looked, Ryohei chewing on his lower lip in thought, holding each photo with careful hands, arranging them against the wall before properly hanging them.

Each photograph is a precious memory, something he wants to keep close to his heart. That can only be what a gesture like this means coming from someone like him.

“Oh, you’re home.” Ryohei’s soft voice has Kazeo’s head snapping around, Ryohei peeking at him from the kitchen doorway. “I set this up to surprise you, so, surprise. Hello, Hiroki.”

In the short time the two of them have been living together, Ryohei has helped himself to Kazeo’s clothing once Kazeo reassured him he was fine with such a thing. Today, Ryohei wears a pair of Kazeo’s pajama pants and one of his sweaters, the entire outfit too large for him, swamping his small frame and making him look even smaller than he already is compared to Kazeo’s gawky height. The sleeves go past his fingertips and the cuffs of the pants pool around his ankles, but he looks so soft and warm that Kazeo’s heart threatens to burst.

He closes the distance between them in two long steps and picks Ryohei up around the waist, swinging him around just a little before pulling him tight against his body. Ryohei squeaks but lets him, wrapping his legs comfortably around Kazeo’s waist, arms settling around his shoulders, a familiar position for the two of them that covers the height distance well.

“You did this for us,” Kazeo says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “All of this?”

Ryohei nods, his fingers combing through the hair on the nape of Kazeo’s neck. “Yes. What did you think I was taking the pictures for? Just to have something to do with my hands?”

“I mean, I knew you were taking the pictures, but this… Framing them all and putting them on the walls where we can all look at them. It’s very sweet. Thank you.” Kazeo blinks fast, not wanting his own eyes to grow wet with tears, not wanting to overwhelm Ryohei like that.

Ryohei is quiet even as his cheeks pick up the slightest tint of pink along the bone, a high color that suits him too well. “I just wanted to do it. I love all of you so much, and I like taking pictures.”

“Baby.” Shibata inhales sharply and when he turns, his eyes are wet, small tracks already damp on his skin. “Baby, you did this for us? I’m… I’m in awe. I don’t know what to say about this, about any of this. This is so  _ beautiful _ , I didn’t even know you saw all of us this way.”

Ryohei slouches down in Kazeo’s arms, his cheeks darkening from pink to red. “Well… I do.”

“Cough him up, Kazeo, you’ve had your share.” Shibata takes Ryohei from Kazeo’s arms, but he doesn’t have the height advantage and so has to adjust, holding Ryohei like a princess in his arms instead. “You’re  _ amazing, _ little prince _. _ I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

If his face grows any hotter, Kazeo is worried Ryohei might catch on fire. “That’s good, right?”

Even with tears still dripping slowly down his cheeks, Shibata’s face softens, his eyes growing warmer. “Of course it’s good. You really are a surprise, you know that? I think I finally understand you and then you go and do something like this and steal my breath away.”

A lesser man might have been jealous or possessive at a moment like this but Kazeo is content to hang back and watch this unfold, drinking in quiet moments like this and everything it means for them. That Ryohei has more than one person who would take him in their arms, that Ryohei can look so comfortable in Shibata’s embrace without trying to desperately escape, it’s a step forward. And Kazeo thinks that Shibata might be happy to have someone who looks at him like Ryohei does, that he’d never get tired of having such a thing in his life, someone to adore him.

“I love you,” Shibata says, and he sounds so sincere it makes Kazeo’s heart hurt.

“I love you, too.” Ryohei is softer but just as sure, and he braves a kiss, a quick peck against Shibata’s lips. “I want to show the others, too. Maybe we can invite them over to come see?”

Shibata looks thrown by the kiss so Kazeo answers, already digging his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, absolutely, I’ll call them right now. No worries, they’ll do it for you.”

While he calls Goura and Yamashita, Shibata carries Ryohei over to the wall and the two of them talk quietly, heads close together, the light framing them in an oddly warm way. It’s a beautiful sight and Kazeo is well aware he’s a lucky man just to be able to be this close to them. When he has the assurance Goura is coming over— crabby and bitchy about making the ride, but coming— he comes to stand behind them, looping an arm around Shibata’s waist.

There are so many photographs, some taken outside and some taken inside. Some were taken in this very apartment, some in the houses the others live at, some at locations like the movie theater and the bar they frequent together, some even at the beach or in various parts of the city. The variety is rich and beautiful and Kazeo’s eyes dart between them, never sure where to settle, finding something new in every picture he stares at.

Ryohei did more than surprise them with this project of his, after all.

When there’s the sound of fists pounding on the front door, Kazeo answers it. Goura’s hair is dotted with water droplets, snow that fell on his head and melted; Yamashita is a blur, launching himself at Kazeo for a kiss, too cold hands sliding under the bottom of his shirt and making him yelp. Goura pitches his shoes at the wall and waits stubbornly for a kiss of his own, his lips softer than they have any right to be, his kisses still a little uncertain. It’s a soft side to him that Kazeo cherishes being able to experience.

“Holy shit,” Yamashita says when he reaches the wall, coming to stand next to Shibata, throwing an arm around his neck. “Baby boy, you knocked it the fuck outta the park with this.”

“Our little prince is a professional,” Shibata confirms, pouting when Yamashita grabs for Ryohei.

It’s the third time in less than an hour that Ryohei has changed arms but he hardly seems to mind, settling just as comfortably in Yamashita’s arms as he did in Shibata’s. While Shibata is relaxed and easygoing, Yamashita radiates energy and warmth and Ryohei seems to bask in it, tucking his forehead against Yamashita’s neck, his eyelids fluttering. He looks warm and content and sleepy and Kazeo’s heart skips a beat, which is really dangerous. He could die.

“What is all this, anyway?” Goura comes to stare at the wall as well, looking back and forth between the photos. “Ryohei, you took all these? No, you’re in some of them.”

“I took those,” Yamashita says proudly, beaming.

“I got them developed today and hung them all up.” Ryohei blinks his eyes open, stretching out a hand to point to a photo of him and Shibata together. “Gohei took the ones I’m in. The ones we’re all in were just timed on the camera. And then I hung them all up today.”

“By yourself?” Goura sounds impressed, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Ryohei nods. “Kazeo took Hiroki out on a date, so I had the time to do it. To surprise you all.”

Goura taps the glass of one photo, a shot of just him and Shibata together, a light fall of snow just visible. They have their arms around each other, Shibata laughing at something, Goura smiling in a completely relaxed and enthusiastic way, something that they rarely see out of him. “I could learn to really appreciate these photography skills of yours.”

“Isn’t he amazing?” Shibata demands, splaying a hand over a photo of Yamashita tucked up under Kazeo’s arm, looking up at him with an unabashed expression of delight.

“He’s the best.” Yamashita hoists Ryohei up higher in his arms to plant a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek, but Ryohei hardly protests. “Our boy can do anything he sets his mind to.”

Ryohei shrugs, twisting the bottom of his sleeves between his fingers. “I just wanted you all to know how I felt about you. I didn’t have anyone really growing up. I didn’t have a choice. It’s very… New to me, still, to have people who walked into my life and decided to stay there even when they saw the awful state I was in. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re a work in progress,” Goura says, and his voice is firm, leaving no space for argument. “We ain’t perfect by a longshot. Hiroki’s an idiot, Gohei’s a hothead, Kazeo’s a dumbass, and me, well, you know how I am—”

“A mixture of all of that,” Shibata quips, and Goura scowls at him before continuing.

“We aren’t perfect. We don’t have all of our shit together just yet, and that’s fine. We’re figuring our shit out.” Goura runs a hand through his hair and Kazeo is seized with the sudden and intense desire to kiss him. “You’re got flaws, we all do. Not necessarily your fault you were brought up the way you were, y’know? It’s hard to let people in when you spent all your life telling yourself that caring would get you hurt, that you had to be self-sufficient.”

Kazeo pulls a face at the words, all too aware of the weight they carry, the way it shapes a person to have to live like that. But Ryohei’s face lights up just a little, so this  _ means _ something for him to hear it.

“But,” Goura says, tapping a photo of the five of them together, “this? This is all ours, this is proof we got what we need to make it. This is how you see us? Well…” He takes one of the photos Yamashita must have taken off the wall entirely, a shot of just Ryohei. “This is how we see you, right? You’re  _ our _ boy now. We didn’t stay in spite of how things were with you when we met, we stayed because we wanted to be with you. Simple as that, you know?”

“Wow,” Shibata murmurs, “that was a lot to come out of you, wasn’t it?”

Goura slaps him on the shoulder before carefully hanging the picture back up on the wall. “Yeah, well, he needs to hear it. He needs to know how much we appreciate and love him, too.”

Kazeo seizes the opportunity to kiss him, enjoying the surprised and startled noise that action receives, the way Shibata laughs and Yamashita whoops. It’s only just the beginning of evening but they end up spilling across the couch just the same, always managing to puzzle together five bodies on its surface. Ryohei usually sits on his lap but now he’s spread across almost everyone, so many hands on his face, so many soft words telling him how much they all love him, how much they appreciate the surprise he set up for all of them.

Kazeo kisses him on the side of the neck when he gets a chance, fingers smoothing through Ryohei’s hair. “I’m proud of you, for what it’s worth,” he says. “For letting all of us in like this.”

Ryohei chews on his lower lip for a moment before smiling, the gesture making Kazeo’s eyes sting. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I’m still trying. And thank you for not giving up on me. I’m never going to stop trying, and I’m glad I have all of you here with me.”

If Kazeo and Shibata both break down over those words, well, so be it. Goura teases them about it but even his face seems softer as he runs his fingers down Ryohei’s back, his eyes straying to the photos again and again. Yamashita laughs at all of them and steals Ryohei for himself for a while longer, eagerly sharing kisses, whispering whatever in Ryohei’s ear to make his face turn pink like that. When Ryohei finally complains he’s cold, Yamashita moves the fastest, yanking the blanket across the back of the couch out from behind all of them so he can wrap Ryohei up in it with careful, knowing hands.

It might not seem perfect to people on the outside, this life the five of them have built together, but the photographs on the wall? They tell a different story. They tell the truth.


End file.
